...
The night breeze was warm and gentle, like a big clump of warm cotton clouds flowing back and forth, left and right, between them both. Yves King's robust body still felt as though it was being suffocated by the pressure of the wind.
Both Faye Owen and Yves King had noses glistening slightly, foreheads shimmering with sweat.
Yves King had acted on impulse, but having been through so much, he had long seen through life's vicissitudes. His temperament had become even more stable. Yet, even so, Faye Owen's complex, stubborn, and haughty gaze had made him feel so guilty earlier that his own gaze and eyelids twitched before he moved.
Yves King gave a wry smile and touched his face, which had been brushed by her long hair.
His gaze was complex yet filled with guilt as he stared blankly ahead at the ground, made cold by the moonlight, until he suddenly realized that Faye Owen was some distance away from him and he quickened his pace, hands hanging down yet tightly clenched.
